


The Temperance

by ihaveamigrane (orphan_account)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: A Bit of Dark Comedy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Russian Doll (2019), Multi, Mystery solving, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Time Loop, Time Travelling Mike Wheeler, Time Travelling Will Byers, Will Byers Can't Catch a Break, ah shit here we go again - that's basically the plot, idk we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ihaveamigrane
Summary: When Will and Mike restart their morning alive after fatal incidents, the strangest thing occurs: both go through a seemingly endless repetition of the same morning, but they somehow manage to find each other amongst the midst of the inexplicable. The two have a goal in mind - find out what is happening to them, and bring everything back to normal as quickly as possible.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair & Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield & Lucas Sinclair, Maxine "Max" Mayfield & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	1. Here Til' the End of Time

Part 1 - Here Til' the End of Time

Will

* * *

_If you say that you are mine_

_I’ll be here ‘til the end of time._

Will awoke to The Clash playing in the room opposite his, which happened to be the living room. Staring up at the ceiling, he let out a deep sigh that settled as thick as paste over his bones. Will felt sluggish, and his body desperately wanted to pull him back into the depths of unconsciousness for even just a wink of more sleep. A five-second nap would be fantastic, in Will’s opinion. _Hell, a_ minute _of just closing my eyes would be superb,_ he thought bitterly.

Will would be lying if he said he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to sell his soul for more sleep. 

Breaking out of his inner bitch-fest, Will brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes. With a yawn, he threw his sheets onto the floor, which only served to add to the mess of his bedroom’s floor. 

_It’s always tease, tease, tease_

_You’re happy when I'm on my knees._

Will got out of bed - which would have been a completely normal task - would it not have been for the fact that he nearly stepped on Chester’s tail. 

" _Shit!_ ” Will flailed and nearly fell over in a desperate attempt to avoid stepping on his dog. To his immense relief, his efforts were not futile. His foot had just narrowly avoided making contact with Chester. 

“Thank fuck,” he muttered, getting down to his knees to pet Chester apologetically. “I’m so sorry, buddy.” Chester simply looked at him, his wet grey eyes observing Will’s. Unable to fend off the urge, Will cupped Chester’s face and kissed the top of his head. 

Will grimaced and pulled away. “ _Euch,_ you need a shower, bud.” Chester offered no hints of apology in his expression. But, Will could have sworn he saw smugness. 

Letting out a small chuckle, Will stood and picked up his phone from the bedside table. He turned it on to see two notifications. 

**February 13,** **_9:05_ ** **AM**

**jane** \- Wake up

**jane** \- I have coffee

Will bit his cheek and smiled as he read the message. He then unlocked his phone to text Jane back. 

**me** \- you’re so vauge

**me** \- *vague

**me** \- r u at the one near campus?

**jane** \- Yes

**jane** \- Also 

**jane** \- Vauge

**me** \- i'm going to stop you right there jane

**me** \- i’ll be there in ten minutes

**jane** \- Ok lol

**jane** \- See you there 👋

Will closed his phone and put it back on his nightstand, grinning widely. His step-sister never failed to put him in the best moods: her quick wit and blunt humor were only small parts of her lovingly terrifying persona. If she were here now to witness his morning sluggishness, she would find some way to tease him for it so nonchalantly he wouldn’t even realize she said something insulting. 

Running a hand through his unruly hair, he promptly went to get changed. 

* * *

After he got out of his bedroom and stepped into the living room, he was met with quite the sight. 

Will gaped and uttered a “ _What…?”_ under his breath.

His apartment was never clean, mind you, but Will tried his hardest to keep it in a _livable_ state. Only now, as he took in the sheer _destruction_ of it, he realized his efforts have been for naught. Joe Strummer was still crooning loudly from the stereo, and it did nothing to soothe Will’s oncoming headache.

“ _Dustin!”_

He got no response from his roommate. With a grimace, he started to meticulously weave through the mess of newspaper, strewn nails, and other hazardous objects scattered on the carpet. 

It was only when he walked into the kitchen where he saw Dustin. At the sound of footsteps, Dustin turned to Will and immediately grinned brightly. Will didn’t return the gesture; he just glared at his roommate. Dustin was preparing some unidentifiable form of scrambled eggs, adding all sorts of different ingredients that Will was positive didn’t belong in them. 

“What’s up?” Dustin said, setting his spatula down on the stove. Will’s gaze remained blase. 

After a silent second or two, Will let out a miffed breath. “What did you do?” he said, inclining his head toward the mess. Dustin squinted at the living room before his eyes lit up in recognition.

Dustin picked up his spatula again to move the eggs around. “Oh yeah, that,” he replied calmly. “It’s just another project.”

Will raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, but why’d you bring your engineering shit here?” He leaned against the counter and bit his nails. “Was there something wrong with the lab at campus?”

“There's just more space in here!” Dustin waved the spatula around to enhance his point. “There are also fewer people,” he shrugged. “It’s more practical.” 

“Right,” Will shook his head in exasperation and went to take a piece of toast from Dustin’s plate of food. 

Dustin’s eyes widened. “Hey!” He protested at Will’s retreating form. 

Will went to the foyer to retrieve his coat and satchel. “It’s a small price to pay-” he shrugged the worn coat on- “for destroying our living room.” 

“Shithead!” called Dustin from the kitchen, and Will laughed as he opened the door. “Where are you even going? It’s a Sunday!” 

“I’ve got to go meet up with Jane, I’ll see you later.” 

Closing the door behind him, Will caught the end of Dustin’s goodbye; it was laced with pure irritation. Will smirked and pulled out his phone to see a notification.

**dustin** \- fucker.

**dustin** \- say hi to jane for me 

* * *

To put it simply, Will hated taking the bus. He despised public transport in general, and that did not bode well with the fact that he didn’t have a car for himself to use. 

Will shivered from the frosty wind and brought his parka closer to himself. _Waiting for this bus is_ not _worth freezing to death,_ he thought bitterly. The cold and damp metal from the bus stop’s benches added to his misery. 

When the bus arrived a few minutes later, he wasted no time getting up and stepping foot in the vehicle. Will handed the scraggly-looking driver his fare and took a seat near the front. He was surprised to see that the bus was vacant save for a woman nearly asleep at the back. 

Sighing, Will turned to look out the window. He watched the scenery roll by; dark, bare trees blanketed by snow, swirling grey clouds obscuring the warm sun, a man walking by with a lit cigarette, and a bright red scarf meticulously wrapped around his neck. 

Will continued to look out the window absent-mindedly before he suddenly felt the prickling sensation of being watched.

Tensing, he turned to glance at the woman at the back of the bus. To his unease, she was already looking at him- the two of them met each other’s eyes. The woman seemed to be in her late fifties: her thin and wiry red hair was pulled into a messy bun, her bright lipstick contrasted against the unhealthy paleness of her skin, and her eyes were sullen. Inexplicably, Will felt a sharp churn of sickness in his stomach, and he turned quickly to look out the window again. 

_Stop being weird, Will,_ he thought, biting his short nails. He jerked when he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. 

“Good morning,” the woman said, looking down at him with a smile. Will hesitantly smiled back and swallowed. 

“G-good morning.”

“Do you have a quarter?” The woman asked, her eyes hopeful. _Oh,_ Will thought. 

Blinking, he nodded and opened his satchel to look for his wallet. “Yeah, I do,” he said, fumbling through his change with frozen fingers. “Just give me a second.” 

Will let out a triumphant sound when he found a quarter and put it into the woman’s outstretched palm. The woman closed her hand around the change and gave him a rueful smile.

“You are very kind, young man.” The woman said softly. She continued to look at him in an observant manner, and Will was beginning to feel uncomfortable; he thought he saw pity in her expression. 

“Oh, that’s my stop,” Will said, noticing the familiar buildings that surrounded his college campus. Quickly, he stood and adjusted his satchel.

The woman nodded. “Have a good day,” she said. 

Will smiled and responded with a “You too.” 

If the woman noticed that his smile fell flat, she did not mention it. Instead, she waved and made her way back to her seat. 

* * *

Although the cafe was filled to the brim with customers, Will could easily spot Jane’s mop of curly hair. As he walked up to Jane’s table, she looked up at him and smiled. Her flannel shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she was clutching a coffee cup between pale hands. He pulled back a stool and sat down, silently accepting the drink Jane slid to him across the table. 

Gillian’s Café was a small yet charming establishment run by a lovely owner (who sometimes offered Will a free scone). Fairy lights were strung across the ceiling, emanating a soft glow that embellished the warm atmosphere. A worn white piano was placed against a wall, open for anyone to play, and it was covered in different varieties of flowers, like everything else in the cafe. 

“How are you not freezing?” asked Will, taking a sip from his coffee. Jane raised an eyebrow. Will quickly added, “Also, hey. Dustin says so too.” 

Jane smiled and traced the lid of her cup with her finger. “I’ve been in here for a while,” she replied, “and like most buildings, there's a heating system in here.” 

Will grinned and then winced as he realized what Jane said. “Sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“I took the bus today, and it was late,” Will replied. “Surprise, surprise.” 

Jane tilted her head in question. “Why didn’t you ride your bike over here?” 

“Well, for one, it’s freezing out,” Will gestured to his coat, “and I didn’t feel like getting hypothermia.” She nodded and hummed in comprehension. Their conversation blended into a comfortable silence, and after a while, Jane went to throw her garbage away. Will drank his coffee and looked around to see if he could spot anyone he knew. After a while, he spotted a flash of stark ginger hair. _Bingo,_ Will thought, and when Jane returned, she grimaced at Will’s knowing smile. 

“So,” Will sang, and he smirked at the flush blooming on his stepsister’s face. “I think I found the real reason why we’re here.” 

“Shut up,” Jane mumbled, ducking her head but grinning widely. Both siblings slyly looked at Max - Will more obvious about it than Jane - and saw that she was finishing up a conversation with a pair of customers. Max was laughing at something one of them said, and Will noticed that the one who made her laugh had the curliest, dark hair he had ever seen. The curls were not tight but wavy, highlighted by the cafe’s fairy lights. Will’s gaze lingered on the customer with the messy hair, but he didn’t think much of it. 

Seeing the perfect opportunity unfurl in front of him, Will stood to catch Max’s attention. Immediately, he felt Jane’s hand close around his elbow and jerk him downwards. 

“Ow!” 

“Don’t bother her! She’s taking orders right now,” Jane hissed, clutching his arm forcefully. 

Will frowned while wincing in pain. “But she just finished at that table!” His features smoothed out when he noticed Jane’s distress. “You've gotta talk to her, Jane,” he said quietly. 

“I have,” Jane huffed, frowning. “She just never talks to _me_ \- she doesn’t start the conversation. I’m worried she doesn't like me.” 

“Well, you don’t know that for sure unless you talk to her,” Will replied. “Also, she’s a waitress. She’s going to be busy most of the time. It’s in the contract.” He watched Jane look silently at the vase of roses placed meticulously on the table, awaiting her response. Finally, she looked up at him and nodded curtly. In response, Will put his upturned hand on the table, and Jane took it silently. 

“You look like Johnathan,” Jane muttered, “You’ve got the hair _and_ the bags under your eyes.” 

Will let out a surprised chuckle at Jane’s sudden comment and brought his fingers up to his face to inspect the space under his eyes. “Do I really?” 

“Yeah,” she mused, “Is something wrong?” 

Will’s hand twitched. “No,” he said, “I’m fine.” He internally winced at how quickly he responded.

Jane narrowed her eyes at him, thin eyebrows furrowing. “ _Will.”_

He swallowed. “I’m just stressed over this project for my art portfolio, that’s all.” 

Will knew Jane could see right through his bullshit; it was a skill she had refined over years of experience. However, to Will’s relief, Jane simply narrowed her eyes and sighed in a way that meant she had let the topic go. 

* * *

After Will finished his coffee, the two decided to take a walk back to Jane’s apartment, which was only a few blocks away. Jane had on a very worn, oversized jacket, and her face was covered almost entirely by a contrasting new scarf. Will was amused at how young she looked, swallowed up by large clothing. At one point, he had asked if the coat belonged to Hopper, and she nodded, teeth clacking together in a shiver. 

“And anyway, I told Lucas that-” Jane suddenly cut herself off and looked at Will. “What are you humming?” They had reached a crosswalk and were now waiting for the walking signal. 

“Hmm?” 

“It sounds familiar. What is it called?” 

“Oh,” Will said, embarrassed. “It’s that one song Johnathan liked a lot.” 

“Well, that’s very specific. Thank you.” Jane rolled her eyes and looked at the traffic signal across the street, which was finally flashing the walk symbol. As the two stepped over the sidewalk, Will noticed a familiar figure. The lady from the bus was walking towards them, surrounded by a crowd of people also crossing the street from the opposite end. 

He raised his hand to wave, but felt someone bump into him - suddenly, a million things happened simultaneously. He felt himself lose his footing and tilt backward into the street; he felt lightweight. 

“ _Will!”_

A scream. Will couldn’t see Jane amongst the mass of people, but he felt a quick burst of pain bloom from his back. The breath was squeezed out of his lungs like someone had closed their hands around them forcefully. Will felt time go slow and fast all at once, and he dimly registered that he was rolling across rough concrete. His body stopped, and everything went silent. Will felt hollow, and he could taste blood and adrenaline. Footsteps were running towards him, and a door opened and slammed shut. Vision blurry, he noticed a figure with a familiar pair of sneakers walk in front of him; Jane bent down, and before he could open his mouth to say something, everything went dark. 

* * *

_Darling, you got to let me know_

_Should I stay or should I go?_

_If you say that you are mine_

_I’ll be here ‘til the end of time._

Will opened his eyes. The Clash was playing in the room opposite his, which happened to be the living room. Staring up at the ceiling, he let out a shaky breath and gasped. Sitting up so quickly he felt his neck ache in protest, he brought up two trembling hands to his eyes. They were there, intact, and not broken or bloodied. Other than the fact that they were shaking badly, there was nothing wrong with them. Will noticed that his mouth didn’t taste like blood anymore, and his back felt utterly normal. Will patted his hands all over his skin and felt no wounds. 

_Am I in the hospital?_ As soon as he thought this, he realized how stupid he was being. He was in _his_ bed, in _his_ room, in _his and Dustin’s_ apartment. _Was I in a coma?_ Was his next thought, which seemed more probable than the first. However, he didn’t _feel_ like he had drifted back into consciousness: Will felt like he had been someplace else, blinked, and found himself back in his single bed. 

_It’s always tease, tease, tease_

_You’re happy when I'm on my knees._

Will looked down to see Chester looking up at him from his spot on the floor. Chester whined, and rested his head on his paws. 

“Chester, bud, what’s going on?” Will said, and his tone was on the brink of frantic. He got out of bed and immediately regretted it; his legs felt weak with fear, and he swayed slightly before regaining control. Feeling nauseous, Will quickly walked out of his room and into the bathroom. He didn’t bother flicking the light switch on, too focused on not throwing up. But eventually, after a while of deep breathing, he gathered the courage to turn it on. 

The normality of his reflection scared him more than anything else ever had. It looked the same as it always did after he had woken from sleep; messy bangs swept to the side, hair tangled to look like a bird’s nest. The only thing that stood out from it was his eyes, which were wide with terror. Will ran back to his room, going straight for his phone.

Plucking it from the bedside table, he turned it on to see two notifications. 

**February 13,** **_9:05_ ** **AM**

**jane** \- Wake up

**jane** \- I have coffee

Throat constricting, he stared at the date. 

“What the _hell?_ ” 


	2. Life or Death

Part 2 - Life or Death

Mike

* * *

_I feel it all around,_

_I feel it in my bones,_

_My life is on the line,_

_When I'm away from home._

Mike grimaced as he was awoken from his phone's ringtone. 

"My _God..!"_ Mike groaned and leaned over the edge of his bed to snatch his phone rather aggressively from his bedside table. 

Squinting at the brightness of the screen, he looked at the contact name of the caller, which read _Lucas Sinclair._ "Fuck's sake," Mike muttered, and he picked up. 

"Yeah?" 

" _W_ _oah, dude, you sound like shit!_ " said Lucas, his audible astonishment roughened by static from the connection. Mike wanted to curse out his friend, or better yet, kill him. _Both would actually be great,_ he thought. Groaning, Mike rubbed his eyes and swept his messy bangs downward so that they blocked his vision from the morning light. 

The warm sun filtered in through the blinds, spilling and pooling onto the hardwood floor. 

It was a lovely morning, but Mike could genuinely care less. The sound of Lucas' tinny voice was giving him a headache. _How fucking early is it, anyway?_ Mike thought. 

A pondering sound came from the speaker. " _I don't know man, I think it's like nine or something_." 

"Oh," Mike mumbled, exasperated with himself that he thought aloud. "That's too fucking early for a phone call, Lucas."

" _Well, it's not_ my _fault you're a hermit_ !” Before Mike could retaliate, Lucas carried on rambling. _“It’s impossible for_ anyone _to call you before eleven, even for your fucking_ mom _…”_ Mike’s head continued to pound relentlessly as Lucas kept speaking, so he quickly cut him off. 

“That’s great and all, Lucas, but what’s your point?” 

“Great? _What’s so great about what I just said- you know what, whatever. I was calling to ask if you wanted to be my wingman.”_

Mike frowned. “What for?” He replied with an air of suspicion. 

“ _Don’t be an idiot; there’s this cute redhead waitress that I saw yesterday at Gillian’s.”_

“Gillian’s?”

“ _Listen, I know that is probably the last place you want to be at right now, but you’ve got to come with me this morning so I can look cool next to your spaghetti body.”_

“Hey!”

“ _I’ve seen your amount of effort in high school P.E. It wasn’t much.”_

Mike subconsciously looked down at his arms. “Shut up,” he muttered. 

With a sigh, Lucas said, “ _Whatever, as much as I would like to talk about your unathleticism, I really need you to come with me, man. It’s a life or death situation._ ” 

Mike bit the inside of his cheek and firmly shut his eyes. _The things I do for him,_ he thought. 

“Fine,” he said bitterly. “As long as you quit hassling me about my past, I’ll help you.” 

“ _Great. Meet me there in about ten minutes?”_

“Sure.” 

“ _Thanks again, man. See you in a bit.”_

Mike hung up. Pulling the sheets over his head, he groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time this morning. 

“Fuck.” 

* * *

Living alone was both a blessing and a nightmare. 

Sure, at first, Mike was ecstatic to be living in a single dorm room all by his lonesome - he could work on his writing in silence and do anything else he wanted with no roommates pestering him. 

In fact, Mike’s current living situation was what he dreamed of having when he was younger: having a place that was _not_ filled with sisters whom Mike got in an argument at any moment, and parents criticizing him for everything he did. 

But, as time went on, he realized how terribly _lonely_ he was. And with loneliness comes boredom, which leads to Mike throwing himself into shitty moods. For the past few weeks, he has been in one of these shitty moods. Everyone close to him has noticed, including Lucas, who made himself a mission to get Mike out of the hole he has dug himself into. 

Mike had a hunch that public humiliation was not Lucas’ _real_ intent to bring Mike with him to Gillian’s, but it was bringing him outside for fresh air. To be fair, Mike hasn’t been out since Friday, but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. 

Wrapping a navy blue scarf knit by Nancy around his neck, he walked out of his dorm and locked the door behind him. Walking down the hall, Mike’s footsteps echoed. _Further proof that nine is too fuckin’ early,_ thought Mike as he took in the vast emptiness of the hallways. 

Luckily, Mike didn’t have to walk too far to the cafe. The dormitory building he stayed at was only five minutes away from Gillian’s, which was incredibly convenient for the dorm’s residents. As Mike stepped through the building’s front doors and into the light of day, he was immediately met with a frosty breeze. “Christ,” he mumbled, and hugged his arms close to his body. To say it was cold out was an understatement - Mike felt like if he stayed outside for more than a minute, he would get frostbite. Wanting to get out of the chilly weather as soon as possible, Mike sped-walked to Gillian’s. 

* * *

Not surprisingly, Mike did not see many students out on the campus grounds. Besides the fact that it was ass-crack of dawn (in Mike’s opinion) on a Sunday, no one in their right mind would be out in the frigid New York weather. Scattered trees that adorned the grounds were masked by the pure white of snow, and the ice-covered grass looked blue. Mike winced every time he accidentally stepped on the frost-covered grass, cold water seeping into his shoes. 

The only souls that were outside other than Mike was a group of five people, underdressed for the weather. Most of them were sporting ripped jeans, worn jean jackets embellished with pins, and boots, and only one of them had on a warm-looking sweater. 

He didn’t pay them any mind, focused on finding refuge indoors. 

* * *

When Mike entered Gillian’s Cafe, he noticed Lucas’ arm shooting into the air, waving him over. Teeth chattering, Mike pulled back a chair and slumped into it, relieved he was finally in a place with a heater. Lucas was sipping at his drink, wearing a smart-looking white dress shirt under his leather jacket. 

“Hey, man,” Lucas said, setting his coffee cup on the table. 

“What, nothing for me? The least you could do is get me coffee, Lucas,” Mike said, frowning down at the empty table. 

Lucas laughed. “That’s where you come in, dear old sidekick of mine. Max is going to take your order so I can speak to her again.” 

“How’d you find out her name?” 

Lucas pointed to his chest. “Nametag, remember? All waiters have one of those.” 

Mike hummed in understanding and looked around the coffee shop. As he was scanning the place for a redhead, his eyes caught on a customer with messy brown hair sitting a few tables across from his. The brunette was accompanied by a shorter girl wearing flannel. However, it wasn’t the girl who caught Mike’s attention. He didn’t know why that was, but he couldn’t help himself from taking in the guy’s features. 

The customer looked haggard like he had not been sleeping for a day or two: his hair was cropped short, but he had long bangs that were swept to the side, and he had deep purple bags under his eyes. _Poor guy, he looks stressed,_ Mike noted. 

“And the mission commences,” Lucas stage-whispered, bringing Mike’s attention back to him. Blushing a bit, Mike nodded. For a second, Lucas looked at him questioningly but turned sharply when Max approached them. 

“I see you’re not a complete loner,” Max said to Lucas, looking at Mike. Mike let out a surprised chuckle, and almost went into a laughing fit when he noticed Lucas’ flushed face. Max’s sharp blue eyes observed Mike, and he shifted uncomfortably. “You look like you’ve never seen the sun.” 

“What do you expect? It’s New York, which isn’t exactly California,” Mike replied. It was Max this time who let out a surprised laugh, which caused Lucas to kick him under the table. 

“As a matter of fact, I used to live in Cali,” Max said, pulling a notepad from her back pocket. “Anyway, what can I get for you? It’s surprisingly busy in here, so I don’t have much time for small talk.”

“A latte would be great, thank you.” 

Max scribbled down his order briskly and walked away. Mike didn’t bother to hide his grin when he saw Lucas’ bitter glare. 

“You were supposed to be helping me, not flirting with Max!” Lucas exclaimed, kicking him under the table again. 

“I wasn’t!” Mike protested, kicking Lucas back. 

“Whatever,” Lucas said, grimacing down at his leg. “Thanks for nothing.” 

Mike mock-saluted. “No problem.” 

The rest of the pair’s time at the cafe was uneventful; unfortunately for Lucas, he didn’t have any other opportunities to speak to Max. Two different waitresses served them - one waiter brought Mike his drink, and another waitress collected their paid check. However, hope was not lost for Lucas. To Mike’s dismay, Lucas decided to stay behind and wait for another opportunity to speak with Max. “The only way that will happen will be when she throws you out,” Mike had said to him as he got up to leave. In return, Lucas had flipped him off. 

When Mike left the cafe, he snuck a glance back at the brunette customer. 

* * *

On his way back to his dormitory, Mike noticed that the small crowd of people clad in jeans was gone. But, in their place, was an odd woman leaning against a tree, smoke from her cigarette twirling in the air. Her wiry and striking hair looked too red to be natural. She was looking off in the distance, dull eyes unmoving. Unnerved, Mike looked away and continued his journey back to his single dorm. 

Although the woman was looking elsewhere, he felt like he was being watched as he walked away. 

* * *

Mike let out a relieved sigh when he entered the dormitory. He had never been so glad to hear the rumbling sound of the indoor heater. The residents of the various dorm rooms seemed to be waking up based on the few people now walking down the halls of the building. Someone smiled at him in greeting, and he returned the gesture. Mike went to the spiraling staircase and walked up the flight of stairs. As soon as he reached the top, he heard his phone chime in his pocket. He got his phone out and turned it on. 

**February 13,** **_10:02_ ** **AM**

 **Lucas -** Max talked to me!

 **Lucas -** and she didnt throw me out asshole

Chuckling in exasperation, he unlocked his phone to text his friend back. As he was doing so, Mike didn’t notice that he was walking into someone. Mike let out a grunt as his body impacted with the unknown individual, and he felt his heartbeat spike as he lost his balance. 

“ _Shit!”_ Mike cried, and he felt weightless as he tumbled down the flight of stairs. Each step of the staircase dug into him, sending shocks of ruthless pain across his body. After what seemed like ages, he reached the bottom of the stairs. The breath was knocked out of his body as he hit the wall. 

He heard his neck snap, and as if someone flicked a light switch off, everything went black. 

* * *

_I feel it all around,_

_I feel it in my bones,_

_My life is on the line,_

_When I'm away from home._

“ _Fuck,”_ Mike jolted in his bed. “ _Fuck!”_

Mike was back in his single dorm, his phone’s ringtone blaring next to his ear. He gasped at the relief of feeling _fine,_ the unbearable pain of tumbling down a flight of stairs forgotten. He leaned over the edge of his bed - _his_ bed? _What the fuck? -_ and picked up his phone from his bedside table. Mike looked at the contact name of the caller, which read _Lucas Sinclair._ Taking a shaky breath, he picked up. 

“Lucas?” 

A pause. Then, “ _Mike, are you okay? You sound shaken up.”_

Mike ran a hand through his hair, squinting at the glaring sun coming in through the blinds. “Yeah, no, no,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m fine, I think I just woke up from a weird fucking dream.” 

Mike didn’t know if that was true or not, but he had to come up with _something_ that made sense to what just happened. 

“ _Okay,”_ Lucas said, clearly suspicious. “ _Well, I’m here if you need anything.”_

“Right,” Mike replied quietly. Suddenly, he was overcome with a wave of nausea, and he had to screw his eyes shut with a groan. 

“ _You sure you’re okay? Are you hungover?”_ Lucas asked with concern. 

“What time is it?” Mike said suddenly. He heard his friend click his tongue over the line. 

“ _I don't know man, I think it's like nine or something.”_

A sense of déjà vu came over him, and it did not go well with his present nausea. Afraid he would throw up all over his bedsheets, Mike quickly got up and ran to the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, he brought his phone to his ear. 

“What day is it, Lucas?” 

“ _I can call you back, Mike,”_ Lucas urged, “ _You don’t sound well.”_

Mike grit his teeth together. “I’m _fine,_ just tell me.”

“ _Alright, alright. It’s the thirteenth, I think.”_

Mike felt his stomach drop. Trying to sound relatively sane, he replied, “Thanks. Yeah, that’s- good. Uh, what did you call me for?” _Nice going, Mike,_ he thought sourly. 

“ _Well, I was going to ask you to go to Gillian’s with me, but you sound like you’ve gone through something traumatic. Now, I don’t know what exactly happened, but we can go to Gillian’s another day.”_

“No, it’s okay,” Mike said without thinking. “I can go. Just-” Mike bit his lip- “give me a few minutes to get myself together.” 

“ _Right,”_ Lucas said, disbelievingly. “ _Y_ _ou don’t have to, but if you really want to, that would be great. Just don’t throw up in front of this cute ginger girl I’m trying to impress.”_

“Max?” Mike asked, afraid of the answer he would get. 

“ _Yeah, do you know her?”_

Mike swallowed. “I-I think so.” 

“ _Huh. Well, I guess you’ll know for sure when we get there.”_

 _“_ Yeah…” 

“ _Okay, man, I’ll see you there. Remember to take care of yourself,”_ Lucas said, and hung up. 

Mike put his phone down on the edge of the sink and looked in the mirror. The vast sea of freckles on his face was standing out against sickly pale skin. Mike’s mop of wavy hair was mussed, just like it got every morning. He raised his hand to touch the back of his neck. Mike’s neck felt fine: it didn’t feel broken or out of place from the rest of his body. 

Mike didn’t necessarily _want_ to go to Gillian’s - he felt too shaken up to leave his dorm. However, he had to see whether or not everything would pan out the same as his supposed dream of February 13th had. 

Taking a deep breath, Mike shook out his arms. “Okay, let’s figure some shit out.” 

* * *

“It’s fucking freezing out here,” Mike bit out as he walked out the dormitory. Scattered trees that adorned the grounds were masked by the pure white of snow, and the ice-covered grass looked blue. _It looks the_ same _,_ Mike thought. He shuddered, and he couldn’t tell whether it was from the cold or the familiarity of the surroundings.

As Mike walked on the concrete path, he spotted a group of people that turned his blood to ice. Crowded around a tree were five individuals who were clad in jeans. Mike stopped in his steps, and he only realized he was staring when one group member turned to look at him, her purple hair framing her scowling face. Mike looked away and kept walking, heart pounding. 

* * *

When Mike entered Gillian’s Cafe, Lucas’ arm shot into the air, waving him over. “Yeah, he did _that,”_ Mike noted under his breath and walked over to where Lucas was seated. Lucas was sipping at his drink, wearing a smart-looking white dress shirt under his leather jacket. 

“Hey, m-” 

“You know that dream I mentioned earlier?” Mike said.

Lucas’ eyebrows furrowed together at being interrupted. “Yeah, what about it?” 

“I think I dreamt about today before today happened,” he replied. Lucas’ confused expression would have been funny at any other circumstance other than now. 

“What, you’re saying you dreamt about the future? What is this, _Inception?”_

Frowning, Mike said, “I don’t think so, Lucas. Come on, your references are normally spot on.” 

Lucas put his arms up in defense. “I know, I know. Continue.” 

Mike snorted. “Anyway, I dreamt that I woke up from you calling me at nine in the morning-”

“Which I did,” said Lucas.

“Yeah, fuck you, by the way, that’s way too early,” Mike replied, “and then you invited me to come over to Gillian’s to be your wingman over the phone.” 

Lucas made an inquisitive sound. “I was going to say that, actually. For you to be my wingman. But I was too distracted by your shaken up attitude,” Lucas said, and then he paused. “Hey, what _was_ that, by the way? You really sounded terrible over the phone. Was the dream _that_ bad?”

“Yeah, it was,” Mike said. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. 

“So wait,” Lucas said. “Did you actually make it to Gillian’s before you woke up?” 

“I did, and you were wearing the same thing as right now,” Mike replied. “But, this conversation we’re having was way different from the one we had in the dream.” 

Instead of replying, Lucas sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, looking thoughtful. Sensing Lucas didn’t believe him, Mike let out an irritated breath and glared at the coffee table. 

He then suddenly remembered about the brown-haired customer, and he looked up to the table where Mike remembered he sat at. And lo and behold, there he was. To Mike’s shock, the customer was already looking at him, expression horrified. The guy’s eyes were wide with recognition - as if he recognized _Mike._ Mike was sure his own expression matched the other’s, and the two stared at each other. 

At the same time, the two uttered, “The _fuck_?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song - Just Another Day by Oingo Boingo


	3. Turning a Blind Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are 56 question marks in this chapter, so I think that basically summarizes the plot

Part 3 - Turning a Blind Eye

Will

* * *

Will was losing his mind.

_ I’m dreaming,  _ he thought numbly,  _ I  _ have  _ to be.  _ It wasn’t one of the  _ wildest _ dreams he has had before - he’s had plenty of those. The only thing that made this theory inconsistent was the fact that Will was terrified. Under normal circumstances, his dreams were muddled, and emotions were experienced dully. However, now, Will felt like he had gone through hell and back.

Will had refused to come out of his room for a good while now, too anxious about what hid beyond the familiar and safe confinements. Currently, he was sitting on the hardwood floor with his knees close to his chest. One hand was absent-mindedly petting Chester, and another was clutching Will’s phone, metal pressing into his skin painfully from his tight grip. 

A low whine from Chester broke Will out of his ruse. Blinking, Will looked down at his dog. “What’s up, buddy?” He murmured, bringing a hand under Chester’s chin to scratch the area there lightly. Of course, Chester didn’t reply to him. Instead, Chester merely looked at Will with large, sorrowful eyes. He then looked at Will’s opposite hand, which held his phone. Will drew his eyebrows together in confusion and looked at the said device. Exhaling sharply from his nose, he turned his phone on.

**February 13,** **_9:05_ ** **AM**

**jane** \- Wake up

**jane** \- I have coffee

Will stared at his phone’s screen, and Jane’s message stared back at him. Yeah.  _ That.  _ Will still didn’t know  _ how _ it was February 13th again, dream or not, but he guessed sitting around wouldn’t help him solve that issue. 

"Alright, Chester, let’s figure some shit out,” said Will.

* * *

Stepping out of his room, he saw that the state of the living room hadn’t changed since his dream (dream? He still didn’t know for sure). He observed the mess of newspapers and nails and bit his lip. 

“Dustin?” 

No response. However, Will wasn’t surprised: instead, he padded over to the kitchen with careful footing. When he reached the entrance of the kitchen, Will hesitated peeking into it. So far, everything had been the same as Will had experienced February 13th last, which was very suspicious to him. But, Will’s determination had finally taken over after a good minute of internal conflict, and he stepped into the kitchen. At the sound of footsteps, Dustin turned to Will and immediately grinned brightly. Dustin was preparing scrambled eggs, but he set down his spatula.

“What’s up?” Dustin said. Will brought a hand up to bite his nails. 

_ Well, here goes nothing,  _ Will thought. 

“Dustin, what’s the date?” 

Dustin frowned, face flooding alarmingly quickly with concern. “It’s...Sunday,” Dustin took a step towards Will, scrambled eggs forgotten. “The thirteenth.” 

Will felt as if everything crashed down on him, pinning his body to the ground until he couldn’t breathe. It was one thing to have his phone show that it was the thirteenth, but it was another thing to have an outside party say the same thing. 

He felt rooted to the spot but weightless at the same time. Will then accidentally caught skin between his teeth as he was biting his nails, fingertips blooming red. 

Will didn’t notice that Dustin was now right in front of him, and he didn’t register the touch of Dustin’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Will, are you okay?” Dustin asked him, and Will responded by closing his eyes and nodding. He knew he shouldn't have nodded, but he didn’t want to stress Dustin out, or worse, have him not believe him about the current predicament Will was in. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno why I asked,” Will replied, laughing to relieve the tension (It didn’t. Dustin looked at him in disbelief, and it was only then when Will realized he sounded insane). 

“Well, you’re not fine,” Dustin said, crossing his arms and squinting his eyes, “because a sane person wouldn’t ask the date out of the blue. Is it sleep deprivation again? I  _ told  _ you not to work so hard on-” 

“It’s not that, Dustin,” Will interrupted hastily, running a hand through tangled locks. At the action, Dustin looked up at his hair, holding in a snicker.

“Your hair looks awful,” Dustin laughed, apparently giving up hiding his amusement. Will blushed deeply and looked away while resting his hands atop his hair to protect it from Dustin’s prying eyes. 

“Shut up; I just woke up,” Will said, closing his eyes. He then heard Dustin sigh, and he opened his eyes, albeit reluctantly.

“Seriously though, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you need to go back to sleep for another year or so.”

“That would be great, but I can’t,” Will replied. “I  _ am  _ fine, though, by the way. Don’t worry.” Will grimaced when he saw Dustin raise a skeptical eyebrow. Dustin broke the tense atmosphere by picking up his spatula from the stove and waving it in the air with dismissal. 

“Alright, alright. I won’t bother you anymore,” Dustin said. “But-” Dustin pointed his spatula accusingly at Will’s chest- “I  _ will  _ drag you to bed and hold you hostage if you’re tired. You need to sleep for at least an hour more than you do regularly.” 

“Got it,” Will said with an exasperated chuckle. Then, as an afterthought, “I’m off to meet Jane at Gillian’s. I don’t really know when I’ll be back, but it’ll probably be soon.” 

Dustin didn’t look up from his scrambled eggs when he said, “Cool. Say hi to her for me, will you?” 

“Sure.” 

Will took in the normalcy of Dustin making scrambled eggs and shook his head. 

_ This whole situation is fucking bizarre.  _

* * *

When Will left his apartment, he stopped for a second to think things over. He didn’t exactly know what he was going to do next, or what he was expecting would happen. He could use public transport or ride his bike to Gillian’s - but, there was also the question of whether or not to go at all. 

However, Will wasn’t the type to turn a blind eye to the unknown. 

* * *

Will took the bus. 

After about ten miserable minutes shivering on the metal benches of the bus stop, he let out a sigh of relief when soft yellow headlights emerged from amidst the thin fog. Will was certain the bus was late, but he didn’t have the energy to dwell on that prospect any further. 

When he stepped foot on the vehicle, Will handed the scraggly-looking driver - the same one as last time,  _ shit-  _ his fare and took a seat near the front. His heart almost stopped cold when his eye caught on a red-haired woman seated at the back end of the bus. 

She looked just as he remembered her - the woman was nearly asleep, eyes hooded, and her head slumped over her shoulder. Taking in a sharp breath, he turned to look out the window. He watched the scenery roll by; dark, bare trees blanketed by snow, swirling grey clouds obscuring the warm sun, a man walking by with a lit cigarette, and a bright red scarf meticulously wrapped around his neck. Except Will couldn’t exactly take in the alluring scenery, having his anxiety dance around the back of his mind, preventing him from focusing on anything.

Yet he point-blank refused on looking back at the woman - he was sure he’d have a heart attack or something of the sort. Was he acting dramatic? Of course, but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone.

When he felt a slight tap on his shoulder, Will swore he jumped ten feet into the air. 

“ _ Shit!”  _

The woman was looking down at him, but her smile was quickly diminishing and being replaced by a grimace. 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the woman said with a nervous laugh. “I was just going to ask if you had any change. I don’t mean any harm.” 

“O-of course,” Will stammered, flushing a hot red. “I’m sorry.”  _ Goddammit,  _ he thought, scrambling to find his wallet with frost-bitten fingers. Will was sure he would die of an aneurysm or something from the sheer amount of unnecessary stress he was putting upon himself. He wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. 

“Here,” he muttered, thrusting his palm - which held a singular quarter - toward the woman. His stomach clenched in agitation when the woman looked down at his hand in surprise. 

Tilting her head in curiosity, she mused, “Well, that’s convenient-” she took the quarter from Will’s pale palm, holding up the quarter to her line of sight- “You gave me just one quarter, and that was all I needed.” 

Will felt his face lose all color as a memory resurfaced. 

_ “Good morning,” the woman said, looking down at him with a smile. Will hesitantly smiled back and swallowed.  _

_ “G-good morning.” _

_ “Do you have a quarter?” The woman asked, her eyes hopeful.  _

“Isn’t this your stop?”

_ Huh? _

“Huh?” Will voiced aloud, internally grimacing at how stupefied his tone probably sounded. 

As if the woman understood, she let out a small chuckle. “I said, isn’t this your stop?” 

Blinking, he quickly looked out the window. Lo and behold, there were the familiar buildings that surrounded his college campus. Will’s eyebrows drew together.

“How’d you know that?” He desperately tried to keep his voice level. 

“Well, people say I have a real knack for things like that,” the woman said with a playful shrug, tapping the side of her nose and winking. 

_ What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? _

Instead of repeating his inner mantra aloud, Will said, “Okay, well, I’d better get going.” He added a nervous laugh at the end of his sentence and stood on shaky legs. 

He got out of there as quickly as he could. Will didn’t think he could move as fast as he did, but he was proven wrong. 

* * *

When Will arrived at Gillian’s, he was slightly out of breath. The atmosphere of Gillian’s was warm and welcoming, but Will felt an undertone of unease. Spotting Jane’s unkempt curly hair, he let out an immense sigh of relief. He couldn’t bring himself to care when he saw someone to his left look at him in confusion. 

Collapsing into the chair nearest Jane’s table, he hid his face in his hands. 

“Melodramatic much?” A pause. When Will didn’t laugh or quip back with his infamous sarcasm, he heard Jane shift and hum in thought. “What’s wrong? Something happened with Dustin?” 

Shaking his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, phosphenes bursting behind closed eyelids. “No, no,” he sighed, “it’s not that.”

Jane drummed her fingers against the tabletop. “Care to elaborate? Or is this a ‘wait it out’ situation?” 

Will couldn’t bring himself to respond to Jane; he just focused on recollecting his thoughts. Finally, opening his eyes to look into his step-sister’s, he replied, “I got hit by a car, Jane.” 

Apparently, Jane was caught off guard by this statement, and she nearly choked on her sip of coffee. Coughing, she set her coffee cup down and rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. Eyes wide, she whispered, “ _ What? _ ” 

Sensing Jane’s urgent concern, he wove his hands around in reassurance. “Don’t worry, please don’t do that.” All that got him was a look of morbid bewilderment. “Seriously, I’m not hurt. Nothing’s broken.” 

“No one just walks away from a car accident  _ unscathed,  _ Will! What the hell, you can’t just tell me you got hit by a car and then tell me  _ not  _ to worry about it!” 

_ Alright, that isn’t a good sign.  _ Jane never had any outbursts like this one; it wasn’t like her to display her emotions in such a way. Idly, he thought she might be spending too much time around his mother. 

Quick to amend the current situation he put himself in, he said, “I  _ think  _ I got hit by a car, at least. I dunno how I’m alive, per se, but here I am.” 

“ _ Alive?  _ Will, a bit of context would be great,” Jane replied, shaking her head. 

Will shut his eyes again. “Okay, give me a second, I need to figure out how to say this in a way in which you’d believe me and not think I’m insane.” 

Jane snorted. 

Will couldn’t just say that he was reliving February 13th, could he? Jane tended to believe anything, actually, but he didn’t know if she’d believe his predicament. Hopefully, she’d taken note of his distress, as it was  _ genuine _ . He couldn’t fake having a mental breakdown. 

Biting his lip, he nonchalantly looked around the cafe to buy more time to think. Nothing was out of the ordinary; customers were being customers, drinking their coffee, oblivious to everything around them. All of a sudden, he noticed a strikingly familiar figure at his periphery. 

It was the curly-haired customer he saw on the first February 13th, his mop of unruly hair unusually familiar. Will wasn’t exactly sure why this customer frightened him as much as it did - everything was the  _ same,  _ but he didn’t expect the unknown customer to be at Gillian’s. But, he didn’t dwell on his emotions - he just focused on breathing normally. 

“Will?” Jane turned to look where her step-brother was staring at, and when she did, she frowned. 

“Isn’t that Lucas?” Jane asked. Will didn’t answer her. His mind screamed to act  _ normal,  _ to  _ quit looking at him!  _ Nonetheless, his body refused to cooperate. “Will. Does this have something to do with Lucas?” 

Dully, he heard her mutter something along the lines of “What the fuck has he done now?” 

When the customer turned in Will’s direction, Will felt his eyes widen in terror.  _ Fuck.  _ He noted that the dark-haired stranger’s shocked expression was not unlike Will’s. 

“The  _ fuck?” _

Will couldn’t recall how long he and the other stared at each other, but it must have been a while if Jane’s uncomfortable cough said anything about it. 

“Will?” At the mention of his name, Will jumped, and he turned his head towards Jane so sharply he swore he got whiplash. “What’s going on?” 

Shaking his head, he mumbled, “Nothing, nothing. Disregard everything I’ve said.” 

When Will looked up at Jane, her expression was dumbfounded. “Wh-why? Okay, listen-” she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with a hand laden with nerves and patted her pockets- “I’m going to take you back to my place, you look sick.” Before Will could retaliate, she gave him a sharp glare that shut him up. Carelessly, Jane dropped a crumpled five-dollar bill, and she gently yet firmly grasped Will’s arm. Too overwhelmed to protest, Will stood and trailed behind Jane’s sure steps.  _ What was going on with him?  _ Will blinked rapidly, the soft lighting of Gillian’s seeming to bear down on him, exposing him in a way that made Will’s head and stomach ache. As he and Jane were stepping out of the cafe, Will turned back to look at the stranger who rattled him in a way nothing has done before. 

The stranger was still looking at him, and he looked as if he would vomit right then and there. 

* * *

The bustling sounds of New York City were, as per usual, loud and prone to give anyone a headache, yet Will could still hear the quick and panicked thudding of Jane’s sneakers against the rough pavement.

“What’s happened to you?” Jane was exhaling sharp, prominent breaths as if she were perpetually frustrated at all the stress she was receiving. But Will knew better than to think Jane was truly angry at him - after years of knowing her, he had figured out that her frustration was a sign of underlying concern. For a brief moment, Will felt an overwhelming wave of shame course through his veins. 

After a few tense seconds of silence, he replied whilst looking down at the grainy concrete, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to stress you out or anything…” he trailed off, biting his lip. 

Jane briefly looked back at him, eyes softening in sympathy. “Will, all I care about right now is getting you home so that you don’t faint in the middle of the street. Also, don’t bite your lip like that, you’ll bleed.” 

Will quit biting his lip. Jane looked forwards again, focusing on the street ahead. Silence fell over the two, and they kept walking, Jane with more purpose and Will trailing behind her, her grip on his arm relentless. 

“Don’t apologize.”

Startled from the sudden break of silence, Will twitched and asked, “What?” 

“Don’t apologize. You can’t apologize for having  _ emotions, _ Will,” Jane uttered, melancholic. “You’ve been doing it for ages. I may be used to it by now, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore.” 

Will sighed. “It’s been a very weird day, Jane.”  _ Well, that’s the understatement of the year,  _ he thought. 

Jane nodded as if she understood precisely what events had transpired prior to Will arriving at Gillian’s. “We’ll talk about it more over waffles when we get home.” 

At the comment, Will couldn’t help but smile, as small as it may have been. 

* * *

“Syrup, whipped cream, or butter?” Jane called from the kitchen. “Or all three?” 

Eyes glued to the popcorn ceiling from his spot on Jane’s couch _ ,  _ Will replied, “Just syrup’s good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

Jane’s apartment was odd. The reason being was actually quite simple: it felt like home. Will thought of it as his home in Hawkins, but condensed and less depressing. She lived in a nearly broken down apartment complex, but she didn’t care much because the rent was astonishingly cheap. Once one walked in her apartment, however, the fact that the building was cracked with mold seemed to dissipate. 

An impressive amount of posters, both vintage and new, covered the olive green expense of the walls. Among the posters were a combination of snippets of Will’s drawings and polaroids, spread out haphazardly. Nearly everything Jane had was second-hand, including the couch Will was currently laid upon. Worn and small, a twin bed with checkered sheets had been pushed against a corner, and adjacent to it was a tall, narrow window with lemon-yellow curtains. 

The window’s view, in Will’s opinion, was possibly his favorite detail of his step-sister’s apartment. Unlike Will’s window in his residence - which provided him with a lovely view of a brick wall - when one looked out Jane’s window, they could see a myriad of vines, branches, multicolored leaves, and flowers that made up an overgrown garden. Will had been told that no one had bothered to tend to the garden in years, and it was left on its own when the owners from the building next door moved out. Unfortunately, getting access to the garden was difficult. A wooden fence surrounded it, and there was no gate to get in. Climbing the fence  _ was  _ an option, but it would be a struggle to get back from the other side since the tall vines and weeds would likely prevent any attempt to climb over. 

Nonetheless, Will was perfectly content just to look out the window and appreciate the ambiance of the scenery. 

“Here. I'm also giving you some ibuprofen if you need it.” 

Thanking her, Will sat up straight on the couch and took the glass of water Jane offered him. Jane slumped into the single sofa opposite Will and dug her fork into the most decorated stack of waffles he had ever seen. 

After Will had taken his ibuprofen and taken a few small bites of his Eggo, he said, “You’ve heard of Groundhog day, right?” 

Jane paused chewing momentarily. “Yes?” 

“Good, that will make it much easier to explain,” he replied quietly, willing his headache would disappear soon. 

Putting her fork down, Jane leaned back on her sofa. She was silent, which Will appreciated. 

“Anyway, uh,” Will said, “I think that’s happening.” 

Frowning, Jane replied, “Okay.” 

“Yeah. Uh, I think I’m reliving today. ‘Cause everything has been the same so far.”

“This conversation?” 

Will paused. “No,” he responded, “this is new. I think last time, you and I were actually headed to your place before-” Will then stopped speaking, face paling. 

“Before what?” 

Nauseous for the hundredth time, Will bit out, “Before I died.”

Silence. Then, from Jane, “So that’s what all the commotion at Gillian’s was about.” Her voice was soft but small as if she were the one reliving the experience, not Will. “Were you hit by a car?” 

Will nodded. 

Clearing her throat, Jane set her plate of waffles down on the coffee table between them. She then stood and walked to sit next to Will, gently taking his shaking hands in hers. 

“Are you sure that  _ actually  _ happened?” 

Again, Will nodded. 

Jane sighed. “If this hypothetically happened, you look fine right now. At least, I don’t see any injuries.” 

Will wasn’t exactly too sure why he didn’t have any injuries either, but he guessed it made sense. He did start his day over, after all. 

Instead of responding, Will shrugged. Jane squeezed his hands and gave him an indecipherable look. “I think it would be a good idea for you to get some sleep, maybe,” Jane stated, dropping Will’s hands and getting up from the couch. 

Looking blankly at the linear pattern of the couch’s fabric, Will distantly heard himself say, “Okay.” 

Smiling faintly, his step-sister got up to walk to the kitchen, picking up her plate of waffles on her way. “I’ll be back. I’m going to make some tea.” 

* * *

Will couldn’t follow Jane’s advice for the life of him. Sure, he felt the most tired he had felt in a while, but his mind was too occupied to simply go to sleep. Consequently, Will sat on Jane’s couch, picking at his plate of waffles and thinking about how his mother would scold him for doing that. Although a considerable amount of time had passed, Jane still hadn’t returned. It was a bit strange, but before he could decide to call out to her, a whispering voice caught his attention. 

“I  _ don’t know _ ! He may be stressed from working too hard or something. That’s all  _ I  _ can think of….No, I’m not going to question him anymore. If you had seen the state he was in, you wouldn’t have questioned him either.”

Morbidly curious, Will looked over the top of the couch where he was seated and saw a sliver of Jane’s slender frame, the rest hidden by the hallway. 

“...I’m not exactly sure. It’s a hard thing to believe, isn’t it? But, it’s  _ Will,  _ and he’s pretty level-headed, so I don’t know...right, well, I’m gonna go. See you in a bit. Bye.” 

Startling at the sound of footsteps, Will quickly picked up his plate of waffles and feigned normalcy. He felt a surge of regret for listening in to Jane’s conversation, but before he had time to scold himself, Jane appeared at his side. She held out to him a steaming mug of floral-scented tea, and he accepted it silently. 

“I’ve got to head out somewhere, unfortunately. But if you need it, do you want me to stay here with you? I can turn the television on, if you’d like,” Jane suggested. 

He smiled in thanks, but said, “I don’t wanna keep you here if you’ve got somewhere to be. I’ll be fine for now, I think.” 

Nodding in finality, Jane went to retrieve her coat and handbag. Will set his food down, and when she returned, with all of her items in tow, she bent down to hug Will tightly. 

“Thank you. I know it’s inconvenient and sudden, but I promise I won’t be out for long.”

Will grinned against Jane’s lightly tangled hair, his gratitude for her swelling in his chest. “I should be the one thanking you for putting up with me.” 

“It  _ is  _ quite a miracle.” 

“Shut up,” he laughed, wheezing when Jane squeezed his torso in their embrace. Jane then got up, patting her hair down and smirking. 

“Love you!”

“Love you,” Will said back, and the front door shut. 

Having Jane at his side made Will nearly forget his emotional stress, but now that she had left, all of his anxiety came back at full force. He reasoned that his fear came from the fact that Will didn’t know anything about what was happening to him. Will tended to feel in control when he knew things, but currently, control seemed out of his grasp. 

The building around him settled, and silence encompassed the surrounding space. A clock ticked loudly from a room, and a gate outside was creaking ominously in the wind. 

“Like a horror movie…” Will mused. 

Occupying himself with something to do, Will picked up his ceramic mug and took a sip of chamomile tea. Jane’s plate of waffles sat discarded on the coffee table, and the ivy from the overgrown garden swayed in the breeze. It was all very ambient, and Will’s thoughts seemed too loud. 

As eerie as the sounds were, Will’s vision unfocused, and he zoned out to the melodic ticking of the clock in the other room - he was, without thinking, automatically chewing the now cold waffles given to him. 

Quite suddenly, Will gasped and choked on a stray piece of food. He made a strangled sound and brought his hands up to his throat, fingers shaking. He couldn’t breathe, his throat was burning overwhelmingly painfully, and tears welled up in his eyes. In numerous futile attempts, Will tried to call out to anyone who could hear him, but all that came out were rattled exhales and choked vowels. In what seemed like hours but was, in reality, a few seconds, swollen black spots finally clouded his vision, and he stopped breathing. 

* * *

_ Darling, you got to let me know _

_ Should I stay or should I go? _

_ If you say that you are mine _

_ I’ll be here ‘til the end of time.  _

Will gasped, drawing in oxygen so sharply that his body convulsed with the effort. Immediately afterward, amidst the desperate inhaling of air, he went into a coughing fit, which seemed to last an eternity. Finally, after his body calmed down, he took in his surroundings and went still. 

He was back in his and Dustin’s apartment, The Clash playing in the other room. Will reached for his phone and read:

**February 13,** **_9:05_ ** **AM**

**jane** \- Wake up

**jane** \- I have coffee

With the date confirming his suspicions, he breathed, “Holy shit,” staring down at his bed. “I guess this is a thing now.” Will looked over his bed to see Chester curled up on the carpet. At the sound of shifting sheets, Chester’s ears twitched, and he looked up at Will, tail wagging. 

_So it happened twice. Either this is really real life, or a really messed up dream,_ he thought. But Will couldn't exactly deny it any longer, as much as he may have wanted to - this was, in fact, real life. Somehow, though, this confirmation eased Will’s stress. Now that he knew what _kind_ of hell he was in, he could try to formulate a plan to get out of it. 

Remembering someone who he thought could help him (hopefully. Will was going on a limb here), Will got out of bed and went to pet Chester. 

“I’ll be back.” 

* * *

Walking into the kitchen, Will stalked straight towards Dustin’s plate of food. 

Sounding startled, Dustin said, “What’s up?” He set his spatula on the stove. When Will snatched a piece of toast from Dustin’s plate, Dustin immediately shouted in protest. 

Will didn’t reply, he just called, “I’m going to Gillian’s to have coffee with Jane. Don’t go destroying our living room more than you already did!” Will then exited the apartment through the front door, leaving a dumbfounded Dustin behind. 

* * *

Pushing through the front doors of Gillian’s and being overcome with the building’s warmth, he thought,  _ couldn’t the universe pick a warmer day to reset?  _ Instead of looking for Jane, as he had done the previous two times, he looked for the dark-haired “Mystery Boy,” as he so lovingly dubbed him. It would be a lie to say that Will wasn’t that surprised to see the “mystery boy” avert his attention from the customer he was sitting next to to the front doors of the cafe and locking startled eyes on Will.

It was almost as if he knew Will was coming, which was obviously an odd thing to think. 

Swallowing a bundle of tightly-wound nerves, he cocked his head toward the direction of the front doors.  _ This is a stupid, stupid, stupid idea, Byers.  _ He couldn’t help but let out a surprised sound when Mystery Boy stood to leave the cafe with Will, waving a dismissive hand and his leather jacket-wearing friend. Too nervous to wait for Mystery Boy, Will exited Gillian’s to wait outside, not wanting Jane to notice him. 

Leaning against the brick wall of the building, he jumped when he saw Mystery Boy push through the doors of the cafe and walk toward him. 

Mystery Boy looked tightly wound with anxiety, looking anywhere but at Will. 

“Uh...hi,” Mystery Boy said. 

Will swallowed. “Hi.”

“Mike,” Mystery Boy said with a cough. 

“Sorry?” Will asked, and wanted to punch himself in the face for how awkward he was being. 

Mystery Boy’s pale cheeks bloomed bright red, hiding his freckles. “My name’s Mike.” 

“Right, sorry.” 

Mike let out a nervous laugh. “You apologize a lot,” he observed. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Will replied, and then felt his own face heat when he realized what he said. Mike grinned slyly at him, and Will flushed impossibly brighter. “I’m Will.” 

“Okay, Will. Uh, are you-” Mike paused abruptly, his previous amusement gone. 

“Dying too?” Will finished, biting his lip.  _ What if he’s not? My god, he’s going to call the cops if he’s not. Why did I think this would work? We just  _ looked  _ at each other, that's  _ it! _ People do that all the time- _

“Y-yeah. That.” Mike’s expression was taken aback, dark brown eyes widening. He then frowned, thin eyebrows scrunching together. “How’d you know?”

“How did  _ you  _ know?” Will retaliated, stupefied from Mike’s statement. 

“Touché,” Mike replied quietly, crossing his arms over his chest in thought. Or it may have been from the cold; Will didn’t know. 

“So-”

“What-”

When they realized they spoke over one another, the two shut their mouths, Will suffering internally. Mike and Will then stood silently, overcome by an unbearable wave of discomfort. 

Mike then broke the tension by clearing his throat. “So-” he shivered as a particularly strong wind blew past- “What do we do now?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow ok i haven't updated this in a while  
> school's been a headache and a half, but given the current pandemic, updates should be coming in frequently now


	4. Scrapes and Bruises

Part 4 - Scrapes and Bruises

Mike

* * *

Mike died on the stairs twice.

His second death was more frustrating than the first because he had made it considerably far through the day. At least, farther than the first February 13th. Mike had made it to his dorm alive and well with no scrapes and bruises after he left Gillian’s. From there, he had sat on his bed, staring at the wall and sorting through the fact that he died,  _ again,  _ in a silent panic. Unbeknownst to him, Mike had been sitting there for quite a while - the sound of a rock being thrown against his window brought his attention to the outside world. Unsurprisingly, it was Lucas who had thrown the rock, and he was waving his arms at Mike, signaling him to come down. Desperately needing the distraction, Mike quickly left his dorm to figure out what the hell Lucas wanted. Alas, his journey had been cut short, as in his hurry, he tripped on the first step of the staircase and tumbled his way down. 

After Mike had jolted in his bed after his second death - cursing more than was necessary - he was just glad he wasn’t going through the agony that was falling down a flight of stairs any longer. 

So now, naturally, Mike was hesitant to use any staircase anywhere. 

Now, that was when Mike faced a pressing issue: there was no way out but by using the stairs. When light filtered in through his window and nearly blinded him, he got an idea. A really terrible, irrational,  _ stupid  _ idea, but it was an idea nonetheless. 

That’s when he found himself with half of his torso hanging out of the open window of his dorm room, clutching desperately to the frame with white knuckles, frantically uttering, “Youcandoityoucandoityoucandoit-  _ fuck _ !” He made it down in one piece, leaving his dignity behind. 

And that’s what Mike told Will. It was most likely  _ not  _ a good first impression - scratch that, it most definitely was a terrible first impression, but Will didn’t seem to care. Instead of laughing at him, or simply walking away due to being unable to handle his stupidity, he grimaced and noted, “I can’t imagine dying on the stairs like that. That’s terrible.” 

“Well. That’s just how it goes when you’re experiencing a weird, fucked up version of  _ Happy Death Day,  _ I guess.” 

Will laughed, and Mike tried not to notice how his nose scrunched up in a not-adorable way. Nose and cheeks pink, Will hugged his torso. “But we’re not exactly getting murdered, though, are we?” 

“Right. Huh,” Mike replied, frowning thoughtfully. “It’s not from natural causes, either.”

Will grinned wickedly at his comment, and Mike felt as if he were about to be humiliated, right there. “Yeah, I don’t think it's natural for someone to mess up and die on the stairs not once, but twice in a row.” 

_ There it is.  _

Mike grimaced, and Will’s barely suppressed laughter burst, breaking his innocent façade. “I regret telling you that, I really do,” Mike pointed at Will, only causing Will to laugh harder. 

“Oh, wow, I shouldn’t laugh, I’m so sorry,” Will gasped between laughter, “It’s just- how do you fuck up  _ twice?”  _

Desperately attempting (and most likely failing) to suppress a blush, Mike muttered, “Shut up.”

After what seemed like ages, Will managed to stop laughing. “Oh boy,” he said, running a hand through tangled locks. He then locked eyes with Mike. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Stunned, Mike took a double-take. “What?”

Will squinted at him, probably thinking he was immensely stupid. “It’s freezing out here, do you want to go indoors?” Before Mike could respond, Will added in quickly, “anywhere but Gillian’s. Too many people.” 

Mike swallowed.  _ God, you’re an idiot,  _ he thought to himself. When he noticed Will still looking at him, he nodded jerkily. 

“Uh, yeah. We can go to my dorm if you want, it’s like five seconds from here.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Mike was pleasantly surprised that he was getting along really well with Will, someone he only met like, twenty minutes ago. But he wasn’t complaining about it in the slightest.

It turns out, he and Will shared most, if not all, the same interests. 

Maybe it had something to do with the “sharing the same Groundhog Day” shebang - he didn’t know. But, the more he spoke with Will, arguing over movie timelines and whether or not ghosts were real, made him realize that he simply enjoyed Will as a person. That is, if he met Will under different, less traumatizing circumstances, he would have got along with him just as well as he was now. 

At some point, Mike had asked, “Do you think we’re the same person?”

“What? What does this have to do with  _ Ghostbusters _ ?”

Mike wished he hadn’t opened his mouth in the first place, but he was too far in to backpedal now. “I dunno, we’ve both died twice. Also, we like almost  _ the exact  _ same things.”

“You mean us being both nerds?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Hm,” Will hummed, looking at Mike thoughtfully. After what seemed like minutes, Will shrugged. “Doesn’t seem likely. If we were, we’d probably both die in the same way. I get hit by a car, and you get hit by a car. That hasn’t happened, though.”

He did have an excellent point. 

“Anyway,” Will said, “Which way do we turn? Right or left?”

“Uh, left.” 

The duo crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk leading to Mike’s dorm in silence. It wasn’t awkward, however. It was the comfortable kind that passed between those with either a close or old bond and that perplexed Mike. He didn't have to dwell on that prospect much longer, as the sight of the dorms brought him out of his thoughts. 

Without much thought, Mike opened the door for Will, making a vague curtseying motion with his hand. Will froze for a split second before smirking and curtseying in return, lifting the edges of his invisible dress. As Will walked into the building, Mike bit his lip in a weak attempt to stifle laughter. 

“Mike, which floor are you on?” 

As Will’s words registered in his head, Mike’s face fell. 

“Ah, fuck. The second.”

“You forgot about the stairs, didn’t you?” 

Mike thickly swallowed a bundle of nerves and nodded. 

Will then asked, “Does this building have an elevator?” 

“Unfortunately, no.” 

Suddenly, Will looked determined, face set to brace a challenge. Without warning, he grasped Mike’s left upper arm and held on. 

“You’ll be fine. Let’s go up together.” 

In shock, Mike nodded and let himself be led to the foot of the first step. The warmth of Will’s palm seeped through his coat, and the feeling reassured Mike.

Slowly, Will stepped on the first step, turning to Mike. When he looked Will in the eyes, Will nodded and squeezed his arm. 

Mike could have cried when they made it to the top intact. 

“Alright, where to?”

Not even phased that Will was still holding on to him, Mike wordlessly led them to where he lived. 

Will did not let go the entire trip, and Mike’s blush did not fade away, even as they entered his dorm room. 

* * *

“My god, how many posters do you  _ have? _ ” Will exclaimed, impressed. He had immediately flocked to a  _ Back to the Future  _ poster plastered on the wall as soon as the two passed through the threshold. 

Mike blushed -  _ how many times had he done that today? It’s a miracle he hasn’t passed out yet _ \- and opened his mouth to answer. “Well, too many for-”

“I had this exact frog plushie when I was a kid! And- no way, is that a  _ Lego Millenium Falcon _ kit?” 

Will looked lost yet curious as he stood in the middle of Mike’s clutter-filled dorm room, taking in his decor. However, the image was soon broken as Will finally seemed to realize he wasn’t the only one in the room. His cheeks flushed pink, and he blurted out, “sorry, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, here. Sh-should we sit down?” 

Mike gestured at his bed. Will took the hint and dropped himself on it, bouncing slightly. Mike followed suit, resting his hands on his palms and looking at anywhere but Will. 

It was a strange situation, for sure. Mike had never brought anyone to his dorm that he hadn’t considered a close friend or classmate, yet here he was, inviting someone over he had only met about an hour ago.  _ Whatever,  _ he thought.  _ We’re in a fucked up situation anyway.  _

“So,” Will mused, patting his thighs absent-mindedly. “I came up with a question on our way here.”

“Shoot.”

“Alright, uh. Before your first death, did you notice anything weird? Like, I dunno, something that wouldn’t happen normally?”

Frowning, Mike considered Will’s question. “A disruption in our routines?” He finally asked. 

Eyes lighting up, Will replied, “yes! Something like that!” 

“Not really? I mean, I woke up from a friend’s annoying ass phone call, I went out to Gillian’s in god-awful weather to help him get a girl, and went back home and died.” 

“You complain a lot, man,” Will said, rather abruptly. 

Mike let out a sheepish laugh. “There’s always something to complain about. Also, I think complaining about dying is pretty justified.”

“Guess you’re right…” Will trailed off, looking lost in thought. While Will did his thing, Mike tried to think back on his day in more detail.

“Hold on,” Will said, interrupting Mike’s frankly unsuccessful attempt to help. “Did you meet anyone new? Did you recognize who your friend was trying to woo?”

“Woo?”

“Shut up. Answer the question!” 

Chuckling, Mike said, “no, I didn’t know her before. Her name’s Max, I think.”

Will’s eyes widened fractionally. “Shit, that’s Jane’s soon to be girlfriend!”

“Wait, what?” Mike asked, startled. “Max’s a lesbian? Wow, Lucas is going to be fuckin’ disappointed.”

Will waved a dismissive hand, seeming flustered. “I’m exaggerating. My step sister has a huge crush on her but won’t admit it, ‘cause she’s an idiot.”

Mike let out yet another startled laugh at Will’s bluntness.

“Anyway, we’re getting sidetracked. Besides Max, who else did you see that you hadn’t seen before? Think, Mike.” 

And think he did. Apparently, it took a while, seeing as Will’s leg started bouncing in nerves at some point. Suddenly, Mike remembered his trip back from Gillian’s, a few minutes before he died. 

“Fuck, I got it. There was this woman on campus I’ve never seen before, just standing there near a tree. She looked dead, almost. Pretty sure she was homeless.”

For some reason, Will looks shaken at Mike’s statement. “Wait, wait, wait,” he stammered, turning around on the bed to fully face Mike. “Did the woman have red hair?”

Mike squinted. “Yes? I’m pretty sure it was dyed, though. Definitely not au naturale.” 

Running a hand through his hair, Will whispered, “holy fuck. I also saw a red-haired woman, but she was on the bus on my way to Gillian’s. She asked me for money, but she gave me the heebie-jeebies.” 

“Wait, you’re seeing a red-haired woman too?”

Will nodded. “She knew where I was getting off the bus, Mike.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “That’s weird as fuck.”

“It really is. I don’t know how our timelines line up, but do you think we’re seeing the same person?”

Mike thought for a moment. “Well, I saw her on my way back from the cafe, and you saw her on your way  _ to _ the cafe. So maybe she’s the same person and not two homeless sisters.” 

All of a sudden, Will’s face lit up. He stood and offered a hand to Mike, who took it. “Progress!” Will said while helping Mike up from his bed, grinning with a force of a thousand suns. Looking down at Will, Mike smiled in disbelief. 

“Holy shit, you’re pretty good at this. Y’know, figuring this nonsense out.”

“I know,” Will said, winking. “Right, I don’t know how we didn’t see that woman on our way here, but let’s go check if she’s still there.” 

Still recovering from Will’s wink -  _ Mike, he’s  _ joking _ , stop reading into things, idiot _ \- he followed him out the door. 

* * *

“She sort of reminds me of Merida or something.”

“What? No, Merida is too much of a sophisticated badass to smoke.  _ I  _ think that she looks like a Raggedy Ann doll, not Merida.”

Will cackled, and Mike grinned back. “A  _ Raggedy Ann _ doll, holy fuck. Think she’s gonna become possessed or something?” 

“Oh god, I couldn’t handle that. Stuff is already weird enough, thanks. Speaking of which…” Mike trailed off as the duo reached the staircase. “I swear to fuck, if I die on these stairs  _ again. _ ” 

“Hey,” Will objected. “I won’t let that happen. Here, I’ll hold on to your arm again.” True to his word, Will grasped Mike’s arm gently yet firmly. 

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” 

They didn’t even make it a step down the stairs before Mike heard rushed footsteps and someone crashing into him. Face draining, he toppled forward and flailed his arm that wasn't held on by Will in a poor attempt to regain balance. 

“ _ Christ!”  _ He heard someone distinctly shout, and then he was yanked backward. Instead of falling down the stairs to his inevitable death, he toppled onto Will. The two fell on the floor on top of one another, groaning profusely. 

Clutching his ribcage, Will asked from under him, “Mike, are you okay?”

Too stunned to speak, Mike nodded, rolling off of Will onto the rough floor. He heard a whimper from Will and realized he had a death grip on his shoulder. Embarrassed, he let go. Mike stared at the ceiling, blood pounding against his temples. The roof of his mouth tasted like blood, though he wasn’t bleeding from anywhere. The view of the ceiling was replaced by Will, who offered a hand to Mike. Even when Will helped Mike up, he didn’t let go of his hand. “That was  _ terrifying, _ ” Will commented. Mike glared at the stairs. “I think we should just go out the window again. Unless this place has a fire escape.” 

“I don’t think it has a fire escape,” Mike said quietly.

“What kind of a fucking building doesn’t have an elevator  _ or  _ a fire escape?” Will said with an air of irritation. “Well. Window it is.” 

* * *

Will wasn’t any good at going out windows any more than Mike was. He was somehow  _ worse.  _ Mike had made it down first, toppling onto the uncut grass. When it was Will’s turn to go out the window, he had managed to fall in a  _ bush,  _ and Mike nearly had a heart attack before hearing

Will’s hysterical laughter emerging from the bush. “Man, I’m never taking elevators for granted  _ again,” _ he had said, carefully plucking a leaf from his hair. 

After the window fiasco, Mike had led Will to the tree where he saw the red-haired woman. Much to their disappointment, however, she was nowhere to be found.

“Well, shit. Now what?”

Will bit his lip. “I don’t know. We could keep looking for her. See if she’s on the bus.” 

“Sounds like a plan, I guess. How long would we stay on the bus, though?”

“I’m not sure,” Will said. “Ugh, this is harder than I thought.”

Sensing his distress, Mike put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll just wing it. I don’t have any classes in the afternoon.” Mike said. He then added, “If we even make it that long.” 

Will laughed grimly and nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’ll wing it.” 

* * *

It was nearly three in the afternoon, and they had no luck finding the woman. Mike’s ass felt sore from sitting down for too long, and his phone was almost dead. When the hundredth group of people boarded the bus, and there was no sign of the woman, Will groaned loudly and thunked his forehead against the window.  _ Same,  _ Mike thought, and pocketed his phone. “Do you want to get lunch? Take a quick break? Who knows, she might be eating a bread bowl at Panera.”

“You’re offering me Panera?”

“Not specifically Panera, but if you want to go, that’s fine by me.” 

Will stretched his arms and was quiet in thought. “I’m craving some waffles.”

“Denny’s, then. Or IHop? I don’t know any other breakfast places.” 

Will smiled at him and looked out the window. “I know a cheap local restaurant in this area. We could go there.”

“Sweet. My wallet could use a break.” 

* * *

The local restaurant was a quaint little place, worn down yet nostalgic. The interior was a cluttered mess of antique beer signs and advertisements. It was all very '50s. While they ate possibly the best waffles Mike had ever had, they exchanged numbers. However, once they realized the contact information might not exist on their phones once the day restarted, they spent quite a bit of time memorizing each other’s numbers. Once they finished eating, they made their way back to the bus stop. Mike was not looking forward to another four hours of sitting on a bus, but Will’s presence made the pain a bit more bearable. 

When they were waiting to cross the street, Will got a call. “Oh, what? Sorry, it’s Jane; gimme a sec,” Will said, and Mike told him not to worry about it. 

“Hello?” Will answered. “Don’t worry, I’m fine...yeah, I know. Sorry...he’s someone from college, Jane, not a murderer!”

Mike stifled a laugh. When Will finished his call, he gave Mike an apologetic look. “Jane doesn’t believe that you're not a murderer. Apparently, she wants to meet you because I ‘don’t have any friends, and it's suspicious that I do.’ Jane’s words, not mine.” 

“Oh, okay. Uh, that’s fine. We can get an Uber if that’s faster.”

“Yeah, an Uber’s good. Sorry, again. I’ll pay.”

“It’s no problem. ” 

When their Uber arrived, Mike began to feel inexplicably sick. Will did as well, and the two looked at each other uneasily. They both sat in the back seat, and off they rode in silence. 

“Where are we going?” Mike asked Will. 

“Jane’s apartment.”

“Cool.”

They fell into a silence that was the exact opposite of comfortable. 

Five minutes into the drive, however, the awkward silence was broken immediately by the squealing of tires. Following that came strings of curses from the driver and the distinct sound of metal clashing together. 

* * *

_ I feel it all around, _

_ I feel it in my bones, _

_ My life is on the line, _

_ When I'm away from home. _

“Of fucking course.” Mike leaned over the edge of his bed to snatch his phone and decline Lucas’ call. He then dialed Will’s number and called him.

“ _ A car crash. How perfect, _ ” Will said on the other end of the line. 

“Hello to you too,” Mike replied with amusement in his voice. “Listen, I’ll meet you outside Gillian’s. Talk to the woman for me!”

“ _ Got it. Don’t die.” _

“You too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are too kind with your comments !!! they keep me going!   
> we're getting deeper into the lore of this fic now ;)

**Author's Note:**

> update schedule is undetermined but it may be once a week . . .. maybe  
> this is my first chapter fic, so we'll see how this goes rip
> 
> tumblr - ihaveamigrane


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